


Sanctum

by xcherries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcherries/pseuds/xcherries
Summary: It has been eight years since Draco Malfoy had last seen the Sun.On May 2 1998, the Dark Lord defeated Harry Potter in the battle of Hogwarts, sending the whole world into an infinite eclipse. Harry Potter and the rest of his supporters were forced to go into hiding and the Order retreated underground, with limited movements.And eight years and six months later, Draco Malfoy finds himself falling into the depths of despair as he turns to alcohol to keep himself afloat. Drowning in his memories, Draco has no respite from the nightmares as he sees the faces of the dead before him, and hears the cries of the fallen.With the final battle approaching, and the Order stronger than ever, the War at its peak; can Draco Malfoy find redemption, or is he doomed to live in this cruel and dark world with his regrets, without forgiveness and love, forever?[Autumn 2018]___________________________________________________________DISCLAIMER:Harry Potter characters and references are owned by JK Rowling.





	1. Chapter 1

**opening**  
Please do not copy my work

Please do not add me or my works to Goodreads, or any other "review" site, without my express written permission. Thanks.

All Rights Reserved © xcherries™ 2018

_________________________________

**S U M M E R Y**

It has been eight years since Draco Malfoy had last seen the Sun. On May 2 1998, the Dark Lord defeated Harry Potter in the battle of Hogwarts, sending the whole world into an infinite eclipse. Harry Potter and the rest of his supporters were forced to go into hiding and the Order retreated underground, with limited movements.

Offered a chance at survival by the Dark Lord, for his mother's treachery and his father's cowardice, Draco is forced kill his parents to prove his allegiance. Armed with the loss of his parents, Draco spends years honing his skills and dutifully obeying the Dark Lord's every command.

Nicknamed the "Dark One" by those within the inner circle; Draco Malfoy shows no mercy; as third-in-command to the Dark Lord, second only to Bellatrix, he has fought, injured, and killed many in his journey through the ranks. His rise to power as the Dark Lord's 'favourite' made him the most deadly, and dangerous of Death Eaters.

It has also made him the most valuable for the Dark Lord's twisted plans.

Pleased with Draco's progress the Dark Lord instructs Draco Malfoy on a secret mission, one that would result in Draco Malfoy having the highest honour of gifting Voldemort an heir. The Dark Lord arranges Draco to be married to a Pure-blood woman of his choice, in the hopes that they bestow upon him a male child, who will be taught and raised within the walls of the Citadel. So that one day when the time comes, the new heir can take over.

But the plan fails, and within a span of twenty-four hours, all is lost.

Voldemort has lost his heir.

Draco Malfoy had lost everything.

Ten months later, Draco Malfoy finds himself falling into the depths of despair as he turns to alcohol to keep himself afloat. Drowning in his memories, Draco has no respite from the nightmares as he sees the faces of the dead before him, and hears the cries of the fallen. He has no respite from the faces of his parents or from the laughing blue eyes and the sweet voice of his beloved. But above all, he has no respite from the sheer guilt and pain he feels when he thinks of him.

The one who was truly the innocent in all of this.

The only life he had hadn't been forced to take.

With the finale battle approaching, and the Order stronger than ever, the War at its peak; can Draco Malfoy find redemption, or is he doomed to live in this cruel and dark world with his regrets, without forgiveness and love, forever?

 

+

Hermione Granger, one third of the 'golden trio' never thought she would end up here. Forced to go into hiding by the Wizarding equivalent of Adolf Hitler, and without Harry and Ron, she has barely a moment's rest as she shuttles from place to place.

It's too dangerous in this post-War world, especially if you're a mudblood, with wand checkpoints at every corner and public executions, the more 'purer' your blood the better. There is no place for a Mudblood in this 'new world', and for Hermione Granger, the world may as well no longer exist.

She hasn't seen her friends and family for eight years and no longer knows if most of them are alive. Her contact with the Order is sporadic at best for fear of interception by the Death Eaters.

So, when she overhears two Death Eaters chatting about how they managed to snatch Potter's wife and their two brats, Hermione's entire world comes crumbling down. After all, Harry is their last hope in ending the war and the loss of his family would destroy him and end them all.

She acts on instinct as she grabs a knife and charges at the Death Eaters. What follows next is a result she would have never predicated―ever.

Saved by the one man she thought she would always hate. She comes to realise that perhaps War is not always black or white, right or wrong; but that sometimes in War, humanity comes in all forms of grey, "every cloud has a silver lining."

And her silver lining happens to be in the form of a man whose tortured soul is in need of healing.

Draco Malfoy seeks atonement from his sins, but what he needs is forgiveness to ultimately heal and whether he knows it or not, he needs Hermione Granger to absolve him.

Together, can these two former enemies put aside their differences and help each other find what they're looking for. Join them in a fight for love, forgiveness, and freedom that changes their world and the fate of the Wizarding World forever.

**_________________________________**

**I N F O**

__________________________________

**W A R N I N G**

_slight trigger warning_

_depression_

_sadness_

_death_

_swearing_

_sexual references ( nothing explicit )_

_war_

_slight violence_

__________________________________

**S T A T U S**

_In Progress_

__________________________________

**D I S C L A I M E R**

_Harry Potter characters and references are owned by JK Rowling._


	2. 01| the letter

**sanc·tum (n.)**

_1\. a sacred place, especially a shrine within a temple or church._

_2\. a private place from which most people are excluded_

 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

 **i. the letter**  


 

 **"What do you mean, they weren't there?"**   **The robe-clad man**  whispered to his companion as they stood in the shadows of the trees. The early morning sunrise playing hide and seek with the clouds as the rays of sunshine flitted in through the gaps of the undergrowth.

The other man simply shook his head helplessly, "I don't know, one minute I had him and then the next thing I knew spells were flying everyone and the majority of them disapparated."

"The wards were down Lion; of  _course_ the idiots took the chance to escape." agitated hands knotted themselves into hair; tugging at the roots.

"I know that, but I don't know where they disapparated too. I don't know where  _he_  went."

"Fuck! We  _have_  to find him,  _damn_  it!" The man roared as he slammed his fist down onto the bark of the tree; his companion jumped.

"Were looking. We're looking mate. Just calm down okay." Lion held his hands up trying to placate him.

"Fine." The man murmured, as he stared down at him.

"I'm not your friend Lion." The declaration was loud in the silence. It was finite. The sounds of the Man's heavy breathing spoke volumes as he stared at 'Fox' in silent fury.

"I'm not your friend either, but were fighting for the same side, so that should count for something right mate." Fox said and the Man simply shook his head.

"Don't confuse me for being one of the good people alright. I can kill you right now and not even feel a thing." He said coolly as he watched Lion's brown eyes widened and his face pale.

"You won't though. I know." Lion said with pseudo-confidence which would on anyone else look genuine enough but the Man knew better. The Man knew Lion better now and he loathed himself for it. They were  _not_ friends. And if either of them wanted to survive this war, they weren't anything and had never heard of one another.

I'm not on your side; I'm on no one's side." The Man said sharply.  _I'm only on my own side,_ was left unsaid.

But heard

And the Man had only a few seconds to feel some remorse as Lion's eyes filled with hurt before the faintest of pop's sounded and just like that, he too was gone, and the Man simply scoffed before he too disapparated.

Morning had dawned.

And he had an important call to make.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Twilight fell upon the grounds of Malfoy Manor like a serpent slithering quietly within the shadows, it crept up out from within the unknown and up and through the walls of the estate like a silent killer; a warning for its owners. But the inhabitants of the house were no longer a boy and his parents. For now the manor had only one left; the boy who was now a man, just the boy and his servants for company.

The man, who despite the protests of his stomach, was nursing a fire whiskey as he starred bleakly into the night sky, it was pitch black, for even the stars seemed to have hidden themselves away in fear. The Man however felt no fear, for his fear died a long time ago, bit by bit, little by little till he was left with only the portraits and memories left.

He closed his eyes as the memories of a smiling brunette with laughing blue eyes swam into view; along with the cries of an infant. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes and saw a large black ministry owl tapping on the window; he lazily waved his wand and the bird flew in through the open window before dropping a letter onto the adjacent armchair and flying off.

Draco swore loudly. Because sitting on top of the plush cushion of his armchair, which was embossed with the Malfoy family crest―naturally―sat a letter. Not just any letter, no. For stamped onto the wax seal of the envelope was the nauseating familiar skull―and―serpent emblem. Great. Just what he fucking needed on a day like today, a letter from the Ministry's office; or as he liked to say, from the puppets of the Dark Lord himself.

Draco pulled himself out of bed; his room was a glow from the evening moonlight. He sighed as he grabbed the letter opener off of his desk; the emeralds on the hilt of the knife glinting in front of the flames from the hearth. He ripped open the letter and began to read; and his face began to gradually darken as he finished the letter before he threw it back onto his desk as he headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Within five minutes he was out and dressed in his tailor black suit. He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared instantly.

"Y―you is calling M―master." The elf asked, voice trembling nervously as she looked at Draco.

He nodded; "Yes, Spot. Bring me my robes, I have to go, quickly." he ordered.

The elf nodded before vanishing and returning back with his things. "You is not wanting to eat Master." Spot asked and Draco shook his head.

"Sorry Spot, I can't right now. Perhaps, when I get back." He said distractedly, grabbing a Numbing Potion off his dresser and downing it in one gulp.

He straightened the fastenings on his cloak, just as his left forearm began to burn. He hissed in pain before throwing on his robes and donning his mask. Grabbing his wand, he nodded at his scared elf, before quickly apparating to the Citadel.

The Citadel was built upon the grounds of the old Riddle House as a way for the Dark Lord to show his final superiority over his "worthless" muggle father. Draco remembered how he had been bestowed the honour of reassembling the great fortress. Draco sneered as he thought of the jealousy that had sprung among the Death Eaters when the Dark―Lord had chosen Draco for the task.

None of them were worthy of the task.

They were all weak –

but Draco; he had potential, The Dark Lord had hissed as he announced that if Draco were to complete the task of building an impenetrable fortress even stronger than Grindelwald's that the World had ever seen. He would be the most valuable to the Dark Lord and would be given the coveted title of "second―in–command." The irony of it all was not lost on Draco.

He strode down the narrow lane as he reached the fortress. The solid sheets of iron forming heavy gates and with the swirl of his wand and raising of his left forearm―in a sort of roman salute, he was permitted entrance. He strode briskly inside; passing through the solid sheet of iron as though it was made of smoke. The Death―Eaters standing guard in front of the iron walls of the citadel avoided making eye contact with him as he passed.

The grounds were surrounded by the defensive wall made of concrete sheets of iron. It was also was protected against all sorts of spells curses, and jinxes. It also had a large shield charm in place which also caused spells to ricochet off of it to hit the attacker. There was also a large invisible shield dome surrounding the top of the fortress to prevent any air―born attacks. And there were also thick iron sheets blocking the tunnels to prevent any gruella warfare or sneak attacks from the Order. And if the last eight years or so were any indication, then Draco had done well as the fortress still remained standing, looking just as new as the day it had been built. The Dark Lord was immensely pleased.

The Manor house was more impressive and ornate than Malfoy Manor but knowing what it was home to, Draco was not impressed.

There were rumours that the Dark Lord had his sights set for the Muggle World. The only reason he hadn't was because he wanted to kill Harry Potter once in for all. And with the rumours saying that he was still alive, the dark lord didn't want to risk it. Draco had never been more glad for saint Potter in his entire life. He didn't know how he would manage dictating over the muggle world not when the Wizarding world was under constant threat from the rebels who dared to defy the Dark Lord.

Draco raised his hand up as he reached the doors of the house; which promptly slid open to grant him access. He sneered as the servant took his cloak. The Dark Lord had no desire for house―elves but took great pleasure in having his Death Eaters torture mud―bloods, half―bloods, blood―traitors, and occasionally ordinary muggles into compliance. The dirtier the blood the worse you suffered, it was simply the way of this new world order; and all had to comply. After all, it was kill or be killed, and as a former Slytherin; Draco had first―hand experience in the art of self―preservation.

"Filthy Squib!" He hissed at the creature and the weathered old man's hands trembled as he brushed the lint of Draco's robes. "Get on with it old man; I don't want to keep the Dark Lord waiting." The man bowed low as face nearly touching the hem of Draco's robes and Draco rolled his eyes. "Alright, now move." He said impatiently as he shoved past the man and headed up the stairs to the Lounge.

He smelled the smoke of cigars in the corridor as he made his way to the assembled party. The smoke in the air thick, making his eyes sting. He ignored it as he narrowed his eyes as he scanned the room. The members were all smoking and drinking and laughing with one another. It didn't matter to them that it was midnight, for the night was when they came alive. It was like any ordinary socialite party. It was hard to believe― by appearance sake at least― that the partygoers were in cahoots with the devil itself.

Draco sneered as he entered the room, shoulders stiff and his eyes carefully blank. A hush fell upon the room and the crowd quickly parted like the sea, making way for him as he walked to the centre of the room. The snake-like figure on the silver throne stirred as its red eyes scanned his most beloved Death Eater. The Death Eater however did not bow, he simply gave a quick nod of his head; and although the Dark Lord's eyes flashed and his fingers twitched, he simply remained still as though merely a puppet on a string, feebly stirring. The Death Eater watched on indifferent.

"My Lord." Draco said as he stared at the grotesque figure reclining up on the cathedra.

"Draco, you have finally come." The raspy voice hissed and Draco wondered for a moment if Nagini had suddenly come back to life. "I was beginning to think you had lost your way." He hissed and Draco felt a shiver go up his spine as he recalled the exact same words that were uttered nearly eight years ago in the dining room of Malfoy Manor.

He forced himself to remain blank as the Dark Lord probed his mind. He was rather smug to note that his Occlumency Shields hardly budged as the Dark Lord forcefully tried to break through. After a few minutes the Dark Lord retreated and Draco unclenched his fists; the nails had dug deep into the palms of his hands and he felt the small drops of blood smear on the inside of his hands.

The first time the Dark Lord had used Legilimency on Draco. He had clenched his jaw so tight that his gums had begun to bleed. But he didn't dare spit or throw up lest the Dark Lord think him weak. Instead he forced himself to swallow; gagging as the crimson liquid filled his mouth, and slithered down through his throat. He hadn't been able to get rid of the metallic taste for weeks after. Thus, now he had found a different outlet, nonetheless painful but not unbearable.

"I was detained my Lord, some incompetent fools hadn't made sure the "Clausiem" was secure;" Draco lied easily. Azkaban Prison had been renamed and the Dementors continuing to guard.

"Who was on patrol there tonight?" Voldemort asked.

Fuck. Draco had no idea, he didn't memorize the bleeding schedules he just assigned the patrols. He forced his mind to remain calm and blank, though his left hand impulsively curled into a fist as he answered.

"Yaxley, and Dolohov." He said coldly and from the corner of his eyes; he saw the look of blind panic engulf both Dolohov and Yaxley's faces as all eyes turned towards them.

Voldemort rose from his seat and a collective intake of breath was heard around the room as the Dark Lord's bare feet touched the cold marble as his robes glided along the floor.

Yaxley stood stiff with fright while Dolohov trembled from head to toe as Voldemort glided up to them; an evil smile painted onto his face.

"Crucio." The dark lord hissed and both Yaxley and Dolohov screamed as the pain tore into them; Draco was only relived his maniacal aunt wasn't there; he knew she was always itching for a good crucio.

"You have been skiving off on your duties." He hissed, "You have been deceiving me. Making others do your work while you hide away like cowards." Voldemort hissed as the moans of pain filled the air. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes; one of the biggest weaknesses of the Dark Lord was his compulsion to chit chat; he figured if the Dark Lord spent less time chatting then he would have managed to finish his work in half the time.

"Well done Draco, well done;" The Dark Lord said smiling creepily at Draco, "You have always served me well."

Draco resisted the urge to shudder and simply nodded. "Of course my lord."

"You have proven time and time again, that you are better than your worthless parents." Voldemort's laugh echoed like a braying donkey and the rest of the Death―Eaters followed suit. Draco remained silent, white―hot fury blinding him.  _They will pay. They would all pay for laughing at his parents_ , and as a slow smirk found its way onto Draco lips, he vowed that he would make it as painful as he could.

"See even he agrees that his parents were useless;" Voldemort laughed as he saw Draco smirk.

"Of course, my Lord." Draco responded woodenly.

"Now," The Dark Lord continued on, "Where are we in locating the boy?" He asked and Draco forced himself to refrain from rolling his eyes.

Eight years later and Potter was still a  _boy_?

Though he supposed since the Dark Lord was a fucking vampire anyway with his immortal life span and a healthy amount of blood lust — he supposed Potter was a boy compared to him; a  _28 year old one_  nonetheless.

"I've had Travers and Montague tail the old hideouts and follow the old routes." Draco said and both the Death Eaters paled as the Dark Lord's attention turned towards them.

"Is that so? And what have you found."

The other two Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably as the red-eyes pinned them in place.

"W-We think they are hiding him in a highly secured place My Lord," Travers the idiot spoke.

"Most likely under the Fidelius charm." Montague added not so helpfully.

Draco sneered  _obviously, you idiot_.

He saw the Dark Lord's eyes glow with fury and Draco had to admit, that even he had to refrain from cursing those blithering idiots on occasion. He still had no idea why no one had killed them off yet, they were only slowing down the cause. The idiots' barely had two brain cells to rub together; they made Crabbe and Goyle seem as though they were actually intelligent! Draco was pleased that he had barely flinched as he thought of Vincent Crabbe. It was a right shame he had died that night. Many things in the war had been nothing but a shame.

"I see." The Dark Lord spoke; his voice chillingly calm, "and how long did it take you exactly to find that information out?"

Travers and Montague's eyes widened as they realised their mistake. They had no leads and lied to the Dark Lord about it; but made the mistake of getting caught.

_Why did all of these idiots never learn?_

IDIOT!" Voldemort bellowed brandishing his wand. "Crucio!"

The Dark Lord shot the spell randomly hitting one of the Death Eaters standing at the front and as he cried out in pain, the rest of the death eaters scrambled as Voldemort shot curses after curses in fury.

Draco merely stood there bored as he watched the show. He picked at his nails and sighed heavily.

"Shall I take my leave then?" He asked dryly, but Voldemort was too busy wreaking havoc and the rest of the Death Eaters were either disapparating or slowly existing from the room, previous activities forgotten.

Shrugging, Draco simply strode out from the room; there was too little time as is, and too much at stake.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"Seriously, what the fuck Malfoy!" The irate voice huffed hours later as Draco apparated into the Atrium at the Ministry.

"Good morning to you too Zabini." Draco drawled rolling his eyes.

"Don't give me that bullshit Malfoy!" His companion spoke. "You were supposed to be here  _HOURS_  ago! You called me at bloody five in the morning. Do you know how long I had to keep  _HER_  waiting? I nearly bust my balls trying to save your ass!" Blaise Zabini's voice rose to a hiss as he spoke.

"Now, now Zabini, no need to shout; you're balls are safe for now anyway." Draco added as he lazily swept his eyes over his friend's sturdy frame.

Blaise's eyes blazed with fury. "For Merlin's sake Draco, try to be a bit more discreet, that's all I'm asking!"

"Fine," Draco said shortly before he took a quick breath; "Thanks for this by the way Blaise, I really appreciate it." He said quietly unable to look his friend in the eye.

But Blaise simply nodded and clapped him on the shoulder before turning sharply on his heel and disapparating.

Draco sighed heavily before squaring his shoulders and making his way up to the high commissions office.

He knocked on the door and stepped into the darkened room, the door automatically locking shut behind him. Draco noticed the amounts of parchment strewn around the desk, along with a couple of floor plans and something that looked like a map of some kind; but before he could get a closer look, movement from the window drew his attention and he stared at the silhouette hidden in the shadows.

"You asked to see me." He said flatly.

"You're late." The voice cut across the room sharper than a whip and it was only years of training that prevented Draco from flinching.

"I was detained." He said hauntingly and the sound of high heeled boots echoed on the hardwood floor as they made their way over to him.

"Were you now?" Bellatrix asked, her rancid breath blowing onto Draco's face and he resisted the urge to vomit, instead he wrinkled his nose and met her eyes squarely, allowing his eyes to glaze over as he looked at her.

"I was seeking some company of the associates of the gentlemen's club." He lied easily.

He felt disgusted as his aunt's maniacal grin widened as she glanced towards his crotch. Draco stiffened and fought the urge to reach for his wand. He stood still as his aunt cackled.

"Oh I see" she screeched and Draco mourned the rupture of his eardrums, "was my nephew seeking the warm company of some filthy whores! They made it difficult to get out of bed this morning. They weren't Mudbloods were they?" She questioned suddenly, and Draco sneered.

"As if I would sully myself in that way, I have standards." He said affronted as he glared at his aunt.

Bellatrix's amusement echoed in the room and Draco counted to ten silently in his head as he waited for the deranged women to stop laughing. Her laughter ended just as suddenly as it began.

"What I need nephew," she hissed, "are new workers. I had to get rid of an entire group of them yesterday. And I have found myself rather understaffed." She said with a disturbing smile that caused a chill to creep up Draco's spine.

"They had to be killed then," Draco inquired dryly as though they were discussing the weather; and not murder.

Bellatrix grinned manically, "Well they were hardly in working condition after I had played with them, most of them didn't even make it through the third Crucio."

She pouted and it made her look more deranged than usual―as if that were possible. He supposed he had to thank whatever higher power that was, that they had died before Bellatrix brought in her knives to play with also.

"Which location did you need them for?" He asked as his aunt walked over to the window.

His aunt went through workers like how some women went through a pair of shoes or lovers. He shuddered at the thought, but it was horrifyingly true. Those poor sods had hardly stood a chance.

"Send them to the workhouse number seven." Bellatrix said and Draco wasn't the least bit surprised to hear that. Workhouse seven was the most difficult one to work in and as it was under Bellatrix's direct supervision, it was also the most terrifying.

With the Clausiem reaching over capacity; the Dark Lord had suggested the Death Eaters to create Work houses where the rest of the Prisoners could go and work in order to earn their keep and to provide a source of entertainment for his bored followers.

Though the workhouses didn't have any Dementors, it left a lot to be desired as the living conditions could hardly be considered as liveable. They were all packed like cattle in cargo, he was surprised there was any room to move about as they did, all the workhouses were at 'full capacity' regardless.

"So you need more workers, is that it?" he asked disinterested, while he covertly slipped his wand into the palm of his hand.

Bellatrix nodded distractedly, "Now go! Find me more!" She said clapping her hands gleefully and Draco rolled his eyes as he saw her laughing at her own reflection in the window.

She was laughing so hard she didn't notice Draco subtly wave his wand. After all, he had gotten all what he had come to get. His smirked widened as he walked out of her office and quickly disapparated.

He had people to find.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

It was midday by the time Draco returned to the manor; he yawned, his lack of sleep and nightmares catching up with him. He stretched just as the carriage made a swooping dive as it landed on the grounds. He fixed his face back into its normal blank mask as the carriage door opened. He nodded at his carriage driver; he hardly bothered to learn the names of his servants, after all they were mainly Mudbloods who managed to get lucky by having Draco as his employer.

The elderly man bowed low; eyes averted and Draco simply sneered as he walked past him to stand over by the designated spot in order to enable the blood wards as well as unlock the Fidelius Charm, in order to be granted entry to the estate.

The Manor had all odd sorts of enchantments and jinxes placed in order to prevent any uninvited guests; the Dark Lord's residency during his parents' lifetimes was one of the rare incidents, for the Manor's ancient magic could sense the reluctance of its owners in admitting entry to their "guests;" in which the manor had been forced by the Dark Lord's magic to accept his and the Death Eaters presence in the manor.

Thus, one of Draco's first actions after his parents' demise was to establish even stronger wards and to place the estate under the Fidelius Charm for extra protection and in order to keep psychopaths like the Dark Lord and his followers out; thus, his hard efforts to ensure that the Citadel was built to perfection. The only way to access Malfoy Manor now was via outside methods, such as flying in on Broomstick or in Draco's case via carriage. Even then, one would have to guess where the Manor stood and once they landed in the designated spot, they would only be granted entry via Draco. As Draco had no intentions of handing over his family home or anymore Malfoy property to the Dark Lord. The Malfoys had sacrificed much for the cause, and Draco was determined to prevent any more.

He stood near the large overgrown hedge and murmured the incantations and stood back as slowly, as though emerging out from under a protective bubble shield, metallised the regal form of Malfoy Manor.

He walked back to the carriage and as it began to fly once more, heading to the North Tower, Draco massaged his temple. He could feel the headache coming on full force. He groaned aloud. He was running low on both Calming Draught and Numbing Potion. He grinded his teeth together as the pain increased. He swore as the Carriage gave a jolt as it landed.

He pounded his fist angrily on the carriage top.

"How many times do I have to tell you to mind the landings!" He yelled and the door swung open at once to reveal the carriage driver staring fearfully up at Draco.

"S-So sorry Sir. I-It won't happen again." The man stuttered out and Draco rolled his eyes, not in the mood to listen to any more simpering fools. He had his fair share in the last fifteen hours and right now all he wanted was a strong bottle of Ogden's finest.

He waved his wand carelessly and the Driver noticeably stiffened, "Just go. I'm not in a mood to listen to your pathetic bumbling and am too tired to Crucio you." He said coldly and the Driver nodded before bowing low and disappearing with the Carriage.

Draco simply walked away, massaging his temple as he headed into the North Wing. He held his breath for a minute as he rounded the corridor, a small smile playing on his lips as the familiar feeling of excitement and apprehension hit him, before he suddenly froze. The smile abruptly slid from his mouth and a sudden chill enveloped his body as he frowned; eyes briefly flickering with pain as he remembered, before he resumed his blank mask.

He had forgotten.

It didn't happen always; it used to quite a bit in the beginning, but now not so much.

But today he had forgotten and for a brief moment he had deluded himself into thinking that he would be walking into her arms and that just for a few moments, his world would be whole again.

Warm and safe as it had always been.

As she had always been.

But that was a lie.

The world, he sees it now.

It was a different time then, but now; bleak, and full of harshness, the world was a much colder place now than it ever was. But there was an almost perverse sense of beauty to it.

He found it in the way the deserted streets seemed to echo the stories of the lost souls that had been forgotten along the way. Or the way in which, even now the familiar cobbled streets brought back nostalgic memories of simpler, happier times; of ice-creams, lollies, broomsticks, and wands, but were now left alone, deserted, and untouched.

He found beauty.

He found in the way he took comfort in the falling of the snow, as it blanketed itself over the lands and sea. Or from the pouring rain as it gently pitter-pattered or raged against the earth, the echoes of thunder beating in tune to the bolts of lightning which flashed in warning to the people. He took comfort in the roars of the sea as it raged in waves against the cliffs.

He found beauty

There was often sadness mixed in with the gentle peace that made all the more hauntingly beautiful.

In the way familiar places and people brought forth bittersweet memories of hopes and wishes that were believed in, fought for, and even killed for, once upon a time. A Fool's errand. Nothing but a waste, a tragic dumb waste. For the lives that were gone and those who now wept, until they too depart leaving the rest unable to defend themselves against the corruption.

Against those that hunger for power, for wealth, and the compulsion of blood-lust.

This new world is a blaze of fire engulfing those who have the misfortune of standing in its path.

It is tainted by the evils of man. The world has now become a chasm of empty dreams and broken promises. It reeked of death; of pain and suffering, of loss, and broken hearts. But above all it clawed at your insides, scratching away until you could breathe no more. When taking a breath, becomes even harder for the one holding the wand than it does for the one without one.

How it burns you from the inside out, and burn you some more till it can no more; till you're begging for it to end, for death to come. It will take what is left, and scatter your ashes into the wind if you let it.

But Draco Malfoy did not let it.

He vowed.

It would not destroy him.

_Not until he destroyed it first._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: My first fanfic y'all! SO EXCITED for you guys to share the journey with me.
> 
> Please, Comment/Vote please. It would mean the world to me!
> 
> Add to your Library, Share with friends/family etc! <333
> 
> Thank you & Enjoy :)
> 
> x cherries


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also cross-posted on wattpad under the same name (xcherries) if anyone is interested in reading it there or seeing some of my other works...let me know if you want me to post any of my other work here as well ❤️

  
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**ii. the patrol**

He hated patrols. No Scratch that. He effing loathed patrols almost as much as he loathed the man walking in front of him. If you could call him a 'Man'. He thought before smirking as the man in question shot him a curious look.

  
"You alright there Malfoy?" Corban Yaxley asked and behind his mask, Draco gritted his teeth in frustration.

He was already beyond pissed at Adrian Pucey for dying. At least he knew when to keep his damn mouth shut and not ask pointless questions. He also knew where to aim his wand, which in Draco's book counted for a whole lot. He had to admit he had a grudging sort of respect for Pucey; he reckoned he would have had a lot more if that arsehole hadn't gone and left him with Yaxley in his place. He wasn't too sure if he could overlook that anytime soon.

He noticed that most of the Death Eaters were shifting about restlessly as they noticed him standing there. He let his cold grey eyes slowly scan the vicinity, his lip curling up into a small smirk as he observed the shudders of revulsion and the uneasy looks being thrown his way. Some of them, however, simply looked away, refusing to meet his eyes or make any sudden movements. Good. He loved it when they were so obviously afraid of him.

"Malfoy?" Yaxley asked again and Draco rolled his eyes. Fucking wanker.

"What!" He snapped irate, and some of the others standing near him stared at him; eyes wide in terror.

"I―I think," Yaxley stammered nervously as Draco waited impatiently for him to go on, "perhaps we should wait for Madame Lestrange before we − " he didn't get a chance to continue as Draco's furious eyes landed on him.

"Are you suggesting Yaxley −? " Draco said. His voice was dangerously soft, "that I am incapable of leading my own troops." the room falling deathly silent as he spoke.

"N―no, absolutely not sir." Yaxley immediately backpedalled, "I―I was only concerned as the last time Madame Lestrange was rather er―upset that we left −"

"It is not your place to be concerned." Draco interrupted flatly as he gazed scornfully at the older man; who simply bowed his head at the thinly―veiled―insult.

"I only meant −" he tried to justify.

"Oh, I know what you meant." Draco said coolly, "but we are all aware that your opinion does not matter any longer. Does it Yaxley?" He said smirked wickedly as Yaxley nodded his head.

"Y―yes, sir –" The death―eater said meekly and Draco sneered. Pathetic.

"After all, I am in charge of Patrols, am I not?" He asked his smirk widening even more as he took in the nervous beads of sweat dripping off of Yaxley's forehead. "So ultimately, I decide what is law, don't I?" he questioned and Yaxley nodded.

"Good," Draco said as he turned away slightly and Yaxley let out a sigh of relief which was immediately cut short as Draco whipped out his wand and cast a quick Crucio. Yaxley's screams echoed in the room and Draco merely stared at the withering mess of limbs on the floor impassively.

Finally after ten minutes of non―stop sobbing and pleading, after which Draco's ears were quite frankly beginning to protest the screeching, did he finally lift the Cruciatus Curse.

"Perhaps this will teach you to think before questioning my authority again," Draco said. His voice was quiet but deadly. "Clean yourself up, were heading out." He said disgustedly as he glanced at the slobbering mess on the floor. Pitiful.

Panting; Yaxley tried to stand and Dolohov; who had come in and stood quietly in the corner while Draco tortured his friend, reached out and pulled him up, shooting a nervous look at Malfoy. Coward. Draco scoffed at the pair of them before turning away.

"Now, are we all here or must I do a roll call to check?" He asked sarcastically and the rest of the Death Eaters stared at him, identical looks of terror on their faces as Draco awaited an answer.

"W―were all here sir," said one of the braver Death Eaters standing in the back. Draco noted how he eyed the wand in Draco's hand with trepidation.

"Excellent. What's your name?" Draco asked and the boy swallowed before speaking;

"P―Peter Barrie sir," the boy said shakily and Draco merely nodded at him before turning away and walking to the front of the line, and donning his mask. He saw from the corner of his eye, the rest of them do the same.

"It's time." He said and at once the sounds of disapparating echoed around the room as one by one everyone disapparated to the place of patrol.

Draco rolled his eyes as he saw some of the newer recruits sway as they landed. Weaklings. He sneered at the lot of them before turning around to face the ruined cobbled streets and the dilapidated buildings surrounding it. He couldn't even recognise what the place used to be, it didn't matter anyway; most of England was controlled by the Dark Lord and his forces.

The Death Eaters ensured that no one would rebel, and for the last eight and half years, there was no sighting or mention of the boy―who―lived. Many assumed he had fled England with his family while others assumed he was in hiding bidding his time till he was strong again, or the opinion that the Dark Lord and his followers shared; that Potter had simply died. After all, Draco though rationally, if he was alive, surely Draco would have been the first to know. Potter could never fight the urge to come forth and sacrifice himself for the good of the people, bloody fucking Gryffindor that he was, Draco sneered.

The Order was in shambles and frequent patrolling ensured any members spotted were killed instantly; Draco Malfoy showed no mercy and there was no doubt in anyone's minds as to how he rose up to the Dark Lord's Third―in―command, second only to Bellatrix. But everyone knew Draco carried out most of the work since Bellatrix was getting more barmier by the day. He heard the whispers, they called him the Dark Lord's right hand, as HE simply had to ask and Draco would get the job done. They said that Draco was as evil as the Dark Lord if not more. His reputation hardly mattered to Draco, after all, the more people feared him, the more they would stay away― and most important of all―stay safe. These days there weren't any more good or bad people. They were just people trying to survive in all this mess.

Draco began to walk and the Death―Eater's followed; he paid no mind to the screams and shouts of the people as the Death―Eaters began their torture. They had only one hour to patrol and Draco knew that for some of them; the hour was not enough, and for others, it was too much time. He noted that Barrie was nervously following close behind him, wand held loosely in his hand. Draco quickly stunned an old lady with his wand and turned to the boy.

"This your first patrol?" He asked shooting the Cascading Jinx towards the small group of people who were trying to fight back. He saw Barrie's eyes watch in horror as the jinx hit the Death Eaters, who were dumb enough to stand in the way, instead. Idiots.

He looked at Draco who simply shrugged, "They're fault for being in the way. You cannot afford to be stupid in war. You WILL die."

Barrie nodded before taking a small step back from Draco; who simply smirked behind his mask and set fire to the small *delict houses on the street. He watched as screams filled the air and one by one, those who had been hiding in the wooden shacks came fumbling out. They were almost skeletal and their faces were gaunt with pain and hunger, and their eyes were filled with terror. Draco laughed darkly,

"Look at them." He hissed at Barrie, "filthy scum." He spat noting that the other Death Eaters had come to stand behind him and were sniggering at the group of crying people.

Draco smirked cruelly at them, he turned to Barrie and was surprised to see the Boy's knuckles tighten around his wand; his other hand was clenched in a fist and trembling. Draco raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the Boy's face and the anguish he saw in Barrie's eyes almost made him want to tell the kid to go home. But he knew that was not an option. Instead, he sneered and leant close to Barrie's face.

"Pull yourself together, or else they'll rip you apart." He murmured nodding discreetly towards the group in the back who were levitating the corpses of their kills. He sneered as he noticed that it was Rookwood, Rodolphus, and Rabastan or as they were known as the three R's. They were usually Bellatrix's lackeys but he knew that tonight the Dark Lord had the Carrow siblings accompany Bellatrix as she terrorised the poor fools who were working tonight.

Amycus and Alecto had botched up a previous mission which had resulted in the death of Mcnair and they had been stupid enough to get caught. Needless to say, the Dark Lord had not been very pleased. He had forced all of them to watch as he crucioed the Carrows before letting Bella have a go at them with her knife. The bloody bitch enjoyed that. Draco could still see the look of pleasure on her face as she licked the blood off her fingers. He had resisted the urge to dry heave.

Barrie nodded before swallowing as he stared straight ahead and Draco gave him a sharp nod of approval, he then turned towards the rest of the crowd.

"Halt." Draco's command tore through the air and everyone froze. "Tie them up." Draco said gesturing to the cowering group in front of them. Eagerly, Rodolphus and another one complied. Draco turned away and raised his wand and pointed it at the small shack. It was decrepit and had what looked like mould growing in the wood splinters. He wrinkled his nose but nevertheless walked in through the doorway. He knew he would have to search every knock and cranny.

He navigated through the narrow corridor, not surprised to find the inside of the shack to be as large as the inside of his manor. Someone had performed an extension charm but had forgotten to remove it. And as he heard the sounds of the rest of the Death―Eaters storming the house, he knew it would be a matter of time before they found the fugitives. He saw Barrie's eyes widened and Draco turned to see three pairs of shoes sitting in the partly opened closet. Glowering he slammed the door shut, the loud bang echoing around the still room. He shot Barrie a glare before rushing down to the cellar.

"Check the attic!" He shouted behind him and Barrie rushed to comply.

Draco's footsteps were muffled by the carpet of dust the coated the steps. The place was unnervingly silent, though he could hear the creaking of the wood, made by the footsteps of the other Death―Eaters as they searched the rest of the house. Draco had taken care to cast a muffling charm on his feet. He preferred to be on guard and having the element of surprise worked to his benefit.

Draco walked further down into the corridor, it reeked of magic; and Draco felt a knowing sense of unease. He waved his wand and the door to the cellar slammed open. He walked silently into the cellar, waving his wand to shine some light into the darkness. He frowned as he saw that the place was empty.

That didn't make sense.

He silently cast a Homenum Revelio spell on his wand.

He heard something shift in the corner; he turned and his wand's light revealed what he was looking for. Someone had cast a poor Disillusionment Charm, and through the distorted wall that appeared, he saw the floating faces of five bodiless evacuees staring back at him. Their eyes widened in horror. Bollocks.

He stared at them for a minute; the hovering heads looking rather strange but the fear in their eyes, and gaunt faces propelled him forward. He quickly reversed the spell; and the group shifted closer together, pressing further into the wall. Draco's eyes flickered up towards the low beam. He hated how tiny and cramped these houses were. If you could even call this place a house. The place looked ready to collapse at any moment; and with the way the rest of the Death Eaters were thundering around the place; Draco didn't think the structure would last long. He glanced back at the bedraggled group in front of him.

"Where are the others?" Draco asked.

The younger children hid behind the older women who had her arms wrapped tightly around them, as though that would save them. Draco sneered, as he looked at the other two; the man had his arm held out protectively in front of the younger pregnant woman, most likely a wife or girlfriend. She hid against him, as though seeking protection from the filthy rag as though it was a shield cloak; Draco refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Been aiding fugitives have you?" He asked the older woman snidely. She simply stared back at him, her eyes hard.

"There's more, sir."  Barrie's voice floated back into the room and Draco turned around to note three more people walking alongside him. Bound and gagged they marched forcefully in unison. The girl was clearly the leader, as she had the most rope binding her together, clearly she had resisted. Her eyes blazed as she glared at him, but he simply ignored her and turned away.

Draco nodded, "Excellent work." He said tonelessly. But before they could do anything a loud bang echoed through the outside corridor and Draco resisted the urge to swear loudly.

Mortimer. One of the newer recruits stumbled clumsily into the room, closely followed by Yaxley and the twenty others who were on duty. Draco gritted his teeth as Yaxley's lips stretched into a demented smile. However it was Mortimer that spoke, like the troll that he was.

"Well, looks like they weren't fast enough to hide from us, were they sir?" he asked simpering as he looked at Draco; and Draco was reminded strongly of the hungry look Bellatrix usually reserved for the Dark Lord. It made him nauseous.

He turned away and waved his wand and large ropes began to twist themselves around the fugitives who had started weeping. Draco sneered in disgust as he saw the way Yaxley was looking at the younger woman who was trying to help in calming the children. He was practically drooling, that sick fuck.

"Yaxley!" Draco barked and immediately the Death Eater turned around, "Go make sure that there are no more stragglers, I'll escort these ones to the Prison myself."

Yaxley opened his mouth to protest, Draco fixed him with a steely glare as he spoke, voice sharp and dangerous, "I do hope you are not about to disobey my direct order Yaxley."

Yaxley shook his head, "no of course not sir." He said before nodding to the others and they followed Yaxley, single-file, out of the room; Mortimer giving Draco a soppy look as he passed, which Draco ignored.

Draco quickly nodded at Barrie –who expertly moved out of the line to stand behind the fugitives. Draco smirked at that–satisfied that he had made the right choice. He strode forward and quickly pulled Malcolm Baddock out of the line, as the rest of the lower ranks filled out.

Braddock glanced at Draco worriedly and Draco rolled his eyes, "I need you and Barrie to help me transport the Prisoners."

Braddock nodded as together the three of them disapparated to the Clausiem. Draco could feel the cold seep into his bones as the heavy winds tore at his clothes and nestled into his skin. He shook away those thoughts as the gates permitted them entry. He noticed that Barrie and Braddock were shivering and trying to avoid eye contact with the Dementors as the guards came to take the prisoners.

They all followed behind, the prisoners shivering as the cold northern air blew about, while the Death Eaters simply drew their cloaks tighter around themselves.  As they climbed the stairs to the recently added newer floors of the tower, Draco could smell the effects of the overcrowded inhabitants and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Why haven't more of them been sent to work?"  Draco asked the guards and the taller one turned towards Draco as he answered;

"There's too many of 'em at the workhouses and too many of 'em in 'ere, 'an orders say keep 'em in 'ere till the wardens need more workers,"  His voice reminded Draco unpleasantly of the half-giant from Hogwarts. He sneered at the thought.

"So what else can we do, sir?" The other guard said shrugging; and Draco merely stared coolly at him, and when he exited the Warden's office fifteen minutes later, there was a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

He supposed in a morbid sort of way, the prison was the answer to his problems. Bellatrix needed workers and the prison was practically overflowing with abundance. It was essentially killing two birds with one stone-literally. It was set. Now all he needed was to put the plan into action.

But first, he needed a drink and a long shower.

  
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He stared blankly at the fire roaring in the hearth. The Dementors in the air had winter's chill coming early; his room remained cold. The sun often set early these days-for it too feared to linger-plunging the world into total darkness. Not that it mattered much to Draco, in his world the sun had set a long time ago and refused to dawn. He had quickly become accustomed to life under total eclipse of the sun. But there were moments when he found himself seeking the golden embers of the familiar heat.

It was days like today when he needed it the most.

He threw his cloak onto the floor and went to his liquor cabinet and dug out a bottle of **Superior Red. The crimson wine warmed his insides as it went down, mixing in with crimson running in his veins; the Bordeaux liquid splashing like blood against the crystal glass.

Empires and dynasties were built on the foundations of blood, they survived on blood lust, and they ended in bloodshed. The crimson rivers polluted and poisoned everything good, staining it till nothing of what was remained. The irony was not lost on Draco as he placed the brew back into the cabinet. He massaged his brow before sighing deeply and downing his glass in one gulp before unbuttoning his shirt as he headed for the shower.

The marble tile was cold to the touch, and so was the water as it rained against his frozen skin, the pale colour contrasting sharply against the blue of his veins. The moon rose as the sun dipped lower into the night sky.

Draco stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, his stomach growling with hunger, but he ignored it as he made his way to his bed, and closed his eyes; it had been a long day and he knew that in the days to come; it would only get worse.

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Miles away, hidden in the shadows of London, were block of flats. They were so unassuming and so broken that few people paid any mind to it all. The seedy atmosphere of potions, lust, and blood were heavy in the air. A whorehouse was what it was commonly referred to as many Death Eaters conducted their "business" here, but truth be told the blocks served a multi-purpose.

It was also home to the underground black market movement. It was precisely for these reasons why it was the perfect place for one to keep disguised from the rest of the world.

Or more specifically the perfect place for one third of the 'Golden Trio' to hide...

Hermione Granger had long  had become accustomed to life under the total eclipse of the sun, the blood of the dead stained the pure white surface of the moon staring back at her.

Her gaze narrowed as she continued to stare up at the sky; a melancholy smile resting on her cracked lips as she took in the twinkling stars in the jet-black sky. A large part of her resentful of the way the stars still seemed full of life as they shone in an unbridled joy. They mocked the others like her who were suffering fates akin to or even worse than her, and in the moment Hermione hated the stars.

She hated how they could live so high above the earth, how they were closer to the heavens than her and above all she hated how no matter what she did, she could never be close enough to reach Heaven's gates. She was doomed to live in this world forever, this hell on earth where no one could escape from.

She let out a mournful sigh and her stomach choose that exact moment to let out a loud rumble; she rolled her eyes heavenward in annoyance, of course, the universe would choose this time to be funny. She had long ago stopped trying to understand fate's sense of humour; it always failed to make her laugh however, so she figured she was not missing much.

Gently rubbing her stomach, her hunger pangs making her head hurt, she shuffled over to her makeshift bed in the corner of the room. She sank against the rags and tried desperately not to shiver in the cold room. She had been lucky to find an empty space when she did. She had been travelling for weeks, moving from one town to the next; hiding in abandoned buildings and barns in the day or sleeping in them at night as she snatched moments to continue her journey.

She didn't have a set time of day or night when she travelled, it was ironically sometimes easier to walk in broad daylight when masses of people helped her blend in or sometimes in the sudden stillness of the night when it was to chilly for Guards to want to patrol.

Though finding food was difficult, it didn't compare to her desperation for water. Her throat was parched and she had yet to understand how she hadn't died yet. Though it only been about 6-8 weeks, she knew it was only a matter of time before her luck run out and they found her. After all, the universe was not exactly her friend.

She still was unable to believe how she managed to escape, just thinking about it, had her stomach in knots. She still could not make sense of it.

Initially, when Harry―she winced; it hurt thinking of him or any of the people she knew and loved had lost to Vol−the dark lord, she had to be careful there was still the bloody trace and it had expanded to include thoughts of the old bastard and other words so she was keen to be careful.

When Harry had lost, everyone had been in shock but immediately the Order and the DA, and the rest of Hogwarts had sprung into action, Half of them had held of the Death-Eaters and Voldemort while the other half did their best to evacuate everyone from the premises and in that moment, Prof. McGonagall had grabbed Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione and handed them a bag of supplies and told them to run. Hermione still had no idea how the old witch had known or been prepared but she would forever be grateful till her dying day that Minerva McGonagall had been there that day.

The extendable charmed bags she had given Hermione had lasted 6 months but food quickly began running out and there were risks with all four of them together so they had decided to split. Harry and Ginny on one end and Ron and Hermione on the other but at the last minute they were attacked by Death Eaters and Hermione had to let go of Ron's hand and was left alone. She had wandered for months in the forests, fearful to try to contact the Order, in case she led the Death Eaters straight to them. So she had resigned herself to move on foot, in case there were Anti-Apparition wards in place. She wandered through towns and cities trying to find her way back to London, in order to see if there was anyone who could help her.

So weeks later, here she was; hungry, thirsty, filthy, and tired, in the middle of London. So lost was she in her musings that she failed to register the sounds of voices screaming or the large kick the door made as it fell of his hinges. The only thing she managed to hear over the loud pounding of her heart was the sound of cruel laughter as ropes bind themselves tightly around her thin frame, embedding into her skin and she saw the evil eyes within the masks of the Death-Eaters as they pointed their wands at her.

And her last thought as she drifted in to unconscious from the pain was that Fate was not her friend and then the world faded to black.

  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Superior Red was a brand of red wine produced, matured for a thousand years and distributed by the Malfoy Apothecary. Lucius Malfoy opened up a bottle of Superior Red and drank a glass while he was impatiently waiting for his son Draco to identify a jinxed Harry Potter after his capture by Snatchers in March of 1998. Superior Red is likely a reference to the Malfoy family's strong beliefs in blood purity, and hence is probably named for the Malfoy family's "superior blood"."
> 
> *OED--delict: (n) a violation of the law; a tort.
> 
> Derived from Latin; dēlictum, past participle of dēlinquere 'to be at fault or to offend."
> 
> Late Middle English etymology *


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